


A New Game

by Shellysbees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Knifeplay, M/M, No Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, dark!john, non-con elements, threatening to kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shellysbees/pseuds/Shellysbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post s3. Sherlock returns to Baker Street after Moriarty's return. Sherlock missed something. Something important. But now everything will become clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Game

**Author's Note:**

> Exchangelock fic for johnsconsultingboyfriend on tumblr. Enjoy :D

John knew the moment he stepped into the flat that evening. 

Nothing looked different, not to the naked eye. The flat they’d once shared looked the same as ever. Sherlock was in his chair, laptop propped up on his knees, seemingly engrossed on whatever menial task he occupied his free time with. But John knew better.

“So, how long have you known?” John asked casually, slipping his coat off and hanging it on the peg beside the door.

“Kitty Riley.” Sherlock didn’t look up at John as he spoke. Not for lack of interest, no, Sherlock was very interested now. Looking John in the eyes would give him far too much information. 

“That long?” John asked curiously. He poured himself a cuppa from the tea tray set out between their chairs before sitting across from Sherlock. 

“The idea occurred to me at that point, yes. But, if you’ll recall, I had other matters to be concerned with at the time.”

“Do explain,” John said, hoping to coax a deduction out of the man. 

Sherlock’s lip twitched in irritation before he closed his laptop, setting it aside. “Why do I need to explain? You knew I’d worked it all out the moment you walked into the room. If I’m right, you’ve been one step ahead of me _for years_. Why?”

“Because it’s fun,” John said simply. His lips pulled into a mischievous smile. “ _You_ are fun, Sherlock. I’ve enjoyed all of the time we spent together, but it’s running out.” Sherlock blinked rapidly and John couldn’t help but grin at that. “You're still processing this, I know. It is a lot to take in. Let’s talk through it, shall we? It’s in your best interest, you know. The more you talk, the more time you buy for yourself.”

John had spent years guiding Sherlock, so of course, even when his life was obviously in danger, he didn’t hesitate to obey.

“Kitty Riley,” he repeated. John hummed appreciatively, waiting for Sherlock to reveal his thought process. Because really, he loved the man’s mind. It had been his favorite part of all of this. “The story about Richard Brook. There were too many details. Too many things that could not be explained away. He had irrefutable evidence of an entire life lived- of course I had no way to know that at the time. Then it was just paper in a folder.”

“So when did you _delve deeper_?”

“After I was… recalled from my exile.”

“It was a bit flashy, wasn’t it?” John’s features scrunched up in irritation. “To be honest, I wasn’t very pleased with that move. But what can I say, I was desperate. Couldn’t have you die fighting an unwinnable fight in Serbia for your _brother_.”

“And how would you have me die?” Sherlock asked, his gaze narrowing on John.

“Slow, and by my hand. It will be dreadfully intimate, I assure you.” John set his mug aside, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “So you figured out there was no Moriarty. Good job. But how did you know it was _me_?”

Sherlock swallowed thickly. “It had to be someone close to me. There are only a handful of people close enough to me, personally, to be able to orchestrate that. Molly and Lestrade were out right away. I’ve known them for too long, know too much about their past. Mycroft was a possibility. He has the resources to pull off the stunts Moriarty pulled, still might be involved in all honesty, but I imagine someone would be forcing his hand.”

John smiled wolfishly, nodding in agreement. He’d had Mycroft under his thumb for years, though Mycroft had been completely oblivious, thinking _Moriarty_ was the orchestrator from the beginning. 

“And then there was the timing,” Sherlock continued, barely pausing to take a breath. “Everything with Moriarty began the day after we met. This man had supposedly built up an entire enterprise right under my nose, and _I_ hadn’t heard of it?” Sherlock scoffed, shaking his head. “No. Much more probable that the name had only been selected after you’d targeted me. Mike was a loose end though… how did you know he’d introduce us?”

“That was luck,” John said, rising to his feet. He slowly circled Sherlock’s chair, until he was behind him. Leaning against the back so his arms draped over Sherlock’s shoulders. 

“You didn’t plan on moving in with me…” Sherlock breathed out the words, epiphany dawning on him. 

“No,” John said gleefully. Sherlock heard the snap of a pocket knife open behind him before he saw it. A thick black handle, with a rubber grip, and a tanto point. The same knife John had carried since Afghanistan. Simple. Military. So much about John had been real, that’s what had led Sherlock astray, the lie wasn’t in the details.

“Not even a flinch. Aren’t you frightened?” John teased, scraping the edge of the point down his neck, tracing his jugular. 

“What’s the point?” Sherlock asked flippantly. “Either you’ll kill me, or you won’t. Begging for my life won’t change that. 

Humming appreciatively, John turned the knife so the blade was running along Sherlock’s skin. It was perfectly cared for, and just the slightest amount of pressure managed to break the skin. Blood rushing to the surface to fill the lines John was sketching into his collarbones.. Sherlock’s breath quickened and his hands balled into fists in his lap, but he seemed otherwise unbothered. 

“You did learn that while we were apart, didn’t you?” John murmured, breath cascading over the shell of his ear. “How to control pain… _and fear_.”

When Sherlock didn’t reply John let the weight of the knife guide him down, adding a fresh cut between the buttons of Sherlock’s shirt. “This is nothing. Just child’s play, love. Scratches. But the things I want to do to you….” John sighed, his free hand caressing Sherlock’s cheek as he walked back around to face Sherlock. “You’d be a work of art by the time I was through with you.”

Sherlock blinked twice, his face contorting in surprise. “But you’re not-”

“Not today. At least, if you’re willing to accept my offer.” The blade crept beneath Sherlock’s chin, forcing him to meet John’s eyes as he spoke. “I had our entire game planned out. It would be a shame to waste it. Don’t you think it’d be that much more of a dance, _knowing_ it’s me? I’m sure we’ll have to save face with the yarders, but I think that just adds to the fun, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.”

John rolled his eyes, closing the blade with a snap. “I have more planned, with ‘Moriarty’. I spare your life now, and we play once more, for old times sake.”

“And how do I know this isn’t another trick?”

“You don’t! That’s half the fun.”

Sherlock looked like a cornered animal. Really, there was no choice. Either he played, and died later. Or he refused, and John had his fun a little early. Either way, _John won_. 

Finally, he nodded, earning him a winning smile. “That’s my pet,” John murmured, walking back over to the door for his coat. “I expect you’ll want to get some rest, we’ll be starting _very_ soon.”

Sherlock listened to John’s foot steps as he made his way back down the stairs. The moment the front door snapped shut he pulled out his mobile. He’d barely put the receiver to his ear before they picked up.

“You were right. He came clean,” Sherlock said, moving to the window to watch as John hailed a cab. Unwittingly sealing his fate. “Operation Brooke is go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon for who Sherlock called, but there are a few people it could be, so I’m just going to leave it open to interpretation.
> 
> Join me on tumblr for more madness. Shellysbees.tumblr.com


End file.
